


Home can be a tent by a fireplace

by ifeeltresbon



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifeeltresbon/pseuds/ifeeltresbon
Summary: When the whole world expects you to be its savior, it's hard to let down your guard and let yourself be another nobody. But when it's just the two of them, Idris learns anew that he is allowed to feel just like everyone else, thanks to Zevran.





	Home can be a tent by a fireplace

Long day, exhausted, breaths drawn out and refreshing. Idris was always so tired after a day's worth of marching, unused to so much physical activities after the restriction of the Circle. A couple of stairs were nothing against muddy paths, and they certainly didn't leave you as dirty. The mage entered his tent, disrobing as soon as the fabric had flapped closed behind him. Standing in just underpants, he sighed. Was it worth it to use some water spell to dig the dirt out of the tissue? Or should he just reuse it as is and pretend that was some aetistical choice to have brown splotches all over? Idris didn't get to ponder on the question much longer, feeling a sudden breeze of wind coming from behind. He had heard no one step in or touch the fabric, so it could only mean one thing: a certain assassin was paying him a visit, discreet as ever. He needed not turn his head to great the fellow elf.

"I know I've yet to install a bell, but you don't have to sneak to get inside. I'd let you in anyway."

A chuckle, and Idris looked over his naked shoulder to meet Zevran's eyes.

"Old habits die hard, or so they say. Am I bothering you? You do seem underdressed for the occasion, not that I mind." 

This time Idris was the one to break into short laughter, turning to face Zevran. He brushed his hair behind his ears, back arching forward as he simply looked to his dirty robe.

"I wasn't doing anything naughty, mister, or at least not yet, so no, you are not bothering. Just wondering how to clean that thing, unless maybe you have advice? According to your stories, you're used to getting knee deep in trouble and coming out clean."

Zevran shook his head, dismissing the robe with a flick of the wrist.

"My expertise is more related to body flesh than what's hiding it. At least, in the morbid way. Speaking of, I've a suggestion for you, if you'll hear me."

Idris raised an eyebrow as he sat himself down on his bed roll, inviting Zevran to sit and make himself comfortable. He didn't reply, but the interested twinkle in his eyes was answer enough.

"Why, thank you very much." 

The assassin sat down close to Idris, leaving barely any space between them.

"My suggestion now. I think I have a trained eye, so I wouldn't be wrong to assume you are quite tired from today's journey... Are you alright? Even when I entered you seemed strained."

Idris' ears flickered upwards, surprised to have Zevran notice what he had tried to keep hidden from the others. But then again, reading the target and their body language had to be second nature for Zevran. Idris couldn't deny it, as much as he wished to. A simple sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I can't hide anything from you, huh? Well, you got me there, Zev. I... am tired, but I didn't want the others to figure it out. You know, with the way everyone expects so much out of me, I feel like I can't show any... Weakness. Bit pathetic, isn't it?"

Idris hanged his head a bit lower, his ears mirroring the motion. He couldn't even keep his gaze straight, feeling what he could only describe as shame. Rosy cheeks, hands unable to find a place to rest, the mage didn't know what to do with himself here in the silence he left.

"Who would have guessed? You are just a person, like the rest of us! But ah, I do not mean to make light of you. Friend -- if you'll allow me --, I don't think the others would dare think lower of you for a physical predicament. You only became this Warden recently, and circumstances put you in the middle of a lot of situations that aren't expected of anyone else."

Zevran began speaking up, using a tone that Idris hadn't heard much coming from the other elf. It was more gentle, comforting... Definitely welcome.

"Maybe, yeah... Can you keep this between us? I... do think of you as a friend, so it helps. I don't feel quite ready to ruin everyone's image of me just yet. To do that, first I'd have to prepare something that'd shock nobles and commoners alike, you know? Put in a grand show of depravity, haha."

Idris did as he always did, joked, jested to move from a painful topic and make light of himself. Zevran's unchanging expression just showed he was only fooling himself, and the blond elf was having none of it.

"I could be speaking out of place, but it seems as if others are making you out to be someone that isn't you. This symbol of hope when it comes to the Blight, this public enemy from Loghain's men and other minions, so many images forced upon you. It gets tiring, doesn't it? But here, in this tent, this camp, it is only us. You, our companions. But ah, friend, this topic is oh so depressing, I may have to rest my head on your bosom to feel better."

First touched deep within, Idris broke into shy giggles at Zevran's own diversion, appreciating this particular way of helping Idris through his doubts and troubles.

"Come on, Zev, you already tried this on Wynne with no success. Plus, I don't even have a bosom."

"Then I'll have to make do."

Zevran closed the distance between them, plopping onto his back and resting his head on Idris' lap, facing upwards at his Warden friend. Idris didn't protest at all, instead shifting the way he sat just enough to make this comfortable for the both of them.  
There was silence, the two of them just staring at each other, until Idris looked off in front of him, smiling contently. Zevran hummed inquisitively, wondering what the Warden had in mind.

"It's really good, like this... You know, in the tower, we have friends and all that, but the rules... They tell us we're wrong to seek others' warmth, embrace... Well, not that I followed those rules anyway. I've always been a bit of a rebel, which won't shock you or anyone else. But yeah, just being like this with the fire nearby? Feels good. It's like I'm really relaxing for the first time."

Idris' attention was drawn back to Zevran as he felt his gentle fingers caress his cheek, softly pulling his face down at him.

"My friend, it could be my way of thinking, but I am under the impression there's a lot you've said without saying it. Could I make some assumptions?"

Idris retained his smile, his eyes twinkling once more with newly found resolve.

"You're welcome to try and read me again, Zev. Do your best."

Ah, a challenge. Zevran liked those.

"Mentioning that silly rule about who beds whom in the Circle, it doesn't sound any fun at all in there."

"It really wasn't, unless you found the right people."

"Yes, and it seems you've had a fair lot of people that were just right then."

"They came and went, as it often happens. But there are some who have yet to go."

Zevran hummed, lifting himself off Idris' lap just a bit, as Idris himself brought his face closer to Zevran's.

"Tell me, Warden, do you still feel cold and alone?"

"I could honestly say no, as we are now, but this little game of beating around the bush wouldn't be as explicit."

"But I must have misheard you earlier, aren't you a rules breaker?"

Idris giggled and finally closed the distance between their faces, planting a chaste kiss on Zevran's lips.

"Well, it seems I'm just no good, Zev."

Zevran's smile widened as he pushed upwards, returning the favor with more fervor, passion, which Idris accepted without protests. In their clash of lips, Idris pushed again the other elf, inviting him back onto his back as Idris would join him, towering over Zevran's body. The mage, now on his knees and elbows over Zevran, found his hands cupping the assassin's cheeks, dragging themselves up into his blond, soft hair. He wanted to hold onto Zevran as best he could as he lost himself into the kiss, pulling out only briefly to breathe and rest his tongue, but the rests didn't last before his desire drove him back to become one with Zevran. The rogue was also at work, his fingers drawing the features in Idris' chest, following the outlines of his muscles and bones until he reached his back, trying to find sensitive spots that could draw a moan or a gasp out of his new lover, though he wouldn't dare use the term outloud himself. Idris shivered under Zevran's experienced touched, something very new to him as other mages were usually just as clueless about the whole lovemaking act. Idris only knew so much, actually, but Zevran could make him find so much more to do, to enjoy, to discover.

"Mmh... Mh... Z-Zev... Zev..."

Inbetween kisses, Idris let out small, desperate whimpers, calling out the other's name. He still couldn't quite believe what was happening, this first kiss, this escalation... But it was all so fast, and honestly Idris started doubting, feeling scared. He pulled away one more time, this time just plopping on top of Zevran, nuzzling his face into the crook of the rogue's neck. The blond elf was a bit surprised, since things seemed to go smoothly, but he said nothing as he held Idris against him, using one hand to play with the mage's hair.

"Too intense for you, friend? You wouldn't be the first to turn to mush so fast."

"Come on, shut up... Wardens have that thing... The extra stamina? It would take more to take me down."

"As shown by your complex by this very lack of stamina, as we established when I came to you."

Well, once again Zevran got him good there. He groaned into Zevran's neck, giving it a playful nibble as he pulled away, arching his back to get to see Zevran's whole face from a safe distance.

"Well, that's this and there's that. Anyway, I... About just now..."

"What is it? Is this the part where I get to smugly announce my assumption was right?"

"Well, yes, but not just that. Zev, if that's OK, I'd like to stop it here today. I did no talking and all action there."

Zevran unwrapped himself from the warden's chest, the hand in his hair lingering near his face to cup his cheek.

"Is that quite so, Idris? I wouldn't want to move forward if you weren't ready and at my side, anyway. But you talk of things you wanted to say? Nothing is stopping you now."

Idris nodded, and his brown cheeks darkened as he did his best to swallow any fear or doubt down the pit in his stomach.

"Alright, er... Where do I even... Uh, in short, Zev, as I sorta implied, I'm... Content with you, I feel... I feel things for you and with you, and--"

But at his surprise, Idris was interrupted as Zevran's thumb had crossed his cheek and met his lips, silencing the mage. Zevran's expression, if only for a moment, seemed pained. Idris... Expected more joy from a confession.

"Had I known you'd have gone that route, I would have silenced you earlier. Idris, my dear, I don't... Need to hear that. What we did is plenty enough to let me know, yes?"

Idris' furrowed his eyebrows, confused by Zevran's words and answer to his feelings. He wasn't quite sure if he was being rejected as a lover but not as a friend with benefit, or if Zevran accepted his confession but wasn't the wordy type. He... Couldn't exactly ask either, now that the mood was ruined. Oh well, it was all too foreign to Idris to make proper sense out of it. He simply bent to give Zevran another tender kiss, which the other returned, before pulling away and back onto his bedroll.

"Well... That was a thing, haha. I know the others will say I make the worst decisions, but do you want to sleep over tonight? I'd feel bad sending you out like that."

Zevran stayed on his back, considering the offer. He silently dragged himself by Idris' bedroll, undressing until he was only in his underwear, and slid against Idris, using his chest as a pillow.

"Truly, your lack of bosom is a tragedy, how else will I sleep?"

Idris broke into more giggles, trying to cover them with his mouth.

"If you need them so much, there's still my arse. Last I've been told, it's pretty plump?"

Zevran was the one to chuckle that time, shaking his head against Idris. Ah, it tickled.

"I think I'll enjoy your chest first. I'll work my way down eventually, with your permission of course."

"Yeah, yeah, just say you don't want to get farted on."

"You're so vulgar, my dear! I thought only our Dwarven companion was low enough for that humour."

"He is, quite literally. I'm under bad influence, it seems. Him, you... Whatever shall I do?"

"Sleep, my dear, we should sleep and enjoy the night, yes?"

"Right, right... Sleep tight, Zev."

"Likewise, my dear."

Lifting the blanket to cover them both, Idris let himself be dragged to sleep with Zevran at his side, a human warmth, even if technically elven, he hadn't experienced in a long while. It made the nights in silence more bearable, the sound of the fire crackling more akin to a chimney in one's house. A little tent in the woods, a small moment he could call 'homely'. Yes, truly, Idris felt content. He didn't need more from Zevran there, this was enough. It was all enough to give him the respite he so desperately needed.


End file.
